Related by Blood
by NerdBurga
Summary: Someone from Merlin's past comes calling and they have nothing good to offer. His friends are concerned and he is in danger, but he refuses for them to help. A story for my 'Our Poor Merlin' collection that got too long. Don't have to have read that to read this. Just an excuse for some whump!Merlin and protective!Arthur/knights. You know you love it.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, now, before any of my OPM or MOEL readers send me bad vibes for starting another story, hear me out. This is actually, technically, a story for the 'Our Poor Merlin' collection (you don't have to have read that first, it's just a bunch of oneshots). It's just that it ended up getting long enough to be its own multi-chapter fic. I know, I know, I just can't keep them short enough. Ah well. Still though, this one should only be a few chapters long.**

**This story is for everyone who wanted someone from Merlin's past. I hope you enjoy :)**

Merlin smirked from where he stood just behind Arthur, who let out a bone-deep sigh. The crowd was slowly dispersing, some muttering suspiciously but most looking at ease once more. Arthur had just finished delivering a speech to the lower town, assuring them that the rumours of raised taxes had been entirely false. He had almost had a riot on his hands, but Arthur had managed to quickly placate them, and Merlin couldn't help but feel a touch proud of his friend. Arthur really was a capable leader, as he'd always known he would be. If only Arthur believed it.

Arthur turned around and Merlin very quickly wiped the smile from his face. Arthur's face was a dark cloud, and Merlin certainly didn't envy whoever it was that had started the rumour. "Let's go," the king muttered, immediately beginning his march back to the castle. Merlin hurried to keep up.

"You did well, sire," Merlin said, falling into step beside him. "No revolts in the near future, then?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Let's not aim for one."

Merlin grinned and nodded and the two friends continued on in comfortable silence. It was busy and bustling around them, citizens of Camelot going about their daily routine, but all respectfully parted for the king.

They had just made it into the market square when a rough voice from behind called "Merlin! Merlin, is that you?"

Before anything else, Arthur noticed the way his manservant immediately froze, his body suddenly stiff and unmoving. With a wary curiosity he turned to see a large man with a very round face and shiny head grinning and walking in their direction. It took a lot longer for Merlin to turn around; he had barely moved by the time the older man reached them. Merlin's eyes sweeped once over the stranger before diverting to the ground.

"Fancy seeing you here, hey Merlin," the man said, clapping a strong hand on Merlin's shoulder. His knees almost buckled underneath him. "How've you been?"

"Fine, thank you," came the quiet response, and the manservant's whole demeanour was so very un-Merlin that Arthur almost wanted to draw his sword there and then. There was something very obviously wrong here, and he didn't like the dangerous glint to the larger man's eyes.

"Been keeping out of trouble, then?" he asked, his hand not leaving Merlin's shoulder. Merlin appeared to pale and shook his head quickly.

"No, no trouble."

There was a slight pause where Arthur could swear the man's grip tightened, but if Merlin was hurting, he was trying very hard to hide it. "You sure about that, boy?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Merlin replied; still no attitude, no cheek, no animation. Whatever this was, Arthur had to stop it, right now. He cleared his throat.

Seemingly noticing him for the first time, the man looked Arthur up and down. "Who's this, then?"

Merlin winced out of the corner of Arthur's eye and seemed hesitant to answer. Hiding his frown, Arthur replied, "I'm King Arthur. Merlin's my manservant. And you are..?" If the question sounded slightly threatening, it was completely by accident.

The man's eyes widened and he gave a hasty bow that didn't seem all that genuine. He then turned back to Merlin, who seemed to be trembling ever so slightly, his eyes still glued to the ground. "The king of Camelot, Merlin? My, what a... position you are in." Arthur really wasn't enjoying whatever big thing he was missing here. He especially wasn't enjoying the sudden conniving expression on the stranger's face.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out coldly.

"Ah, of course, my apologies sire," the man said with another little bow. "I am Daell, a humble visitor to your kingdom," he turned to Merlin again, "and I am this here boy's uncle."

Uncle? Arthur stared at Merlin. He had never mentioned an uncle. Arthur had always just assumed Hunith was Merlin's only family. And if this man, Daell, truly was who he said he was, why did Merlin seem so… terrified?

"Has he never mentioned me?" Daell asked cheerfully, "why, Merlin, how could you forget about your own uncle? I would have thought I'd be rather... memorable."

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked quietly, and at least his voice seemed a little louder now. As if he was finding his bravery.

Daell smiled like a snake. "Came to see this here king of yours, actually. Wanted to report a sighting," he paused here and his eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed firmly in place, "of a sorcerer."

Arthur was too busy glaring at Daell to notice the way Merlin's body locked up, the fear now practically rolling off of him in waves. "A sorcerer?"

Daell nodded emphatically. "Oh yes, sire. Awful business, this sorcery stuff." He glanced at Merlin as he continued, "nothing but a stain to remove, really."

Arthur studied him suspiciously. He really did not like this man. But if what he said was true, he could hardly ignore it because of the way he kept looking at Merlin. But he did need to talk to Merlin first, and find out what the hell was wrong. "You will need to request an audience like everyone else, I'm afraid," Arthur said finally. "I apologise but I have much to do. It was nice to meet you." If, in this case, nice meant truly unsettling. "Come on, Merlin."

Merlin nodded and quickly made to follow, but Daell held out a hand to stop him. "We will have to catch up, Merlin. It has been far too long." The younger man didn't answer, only skirted around him and caught up to Arthur. Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn't seem to notice that Arthur kept one pace behind him, between him and Daell, until his uncle was well out of sight.

* * *

"So. Your uncle." Arthur had waited until they were back in his chambers before bringing it up. The trip was unnervingly quiet. "You've never mentioned one."

Merlin shrugged, looking anywhere but at Arthur and fidgeting restlessly. "We were never close."

"Oh yes, I can tell that," Arthur replied, deadpan. "Nice man."

Merlin quickly glanced at him, before looking away again; more specifically, looking at the door. "I guess."

As usual, it seemed, finding out what was wrong with his manservant would be no simple task. Honestly, getting a conversation out of Percival would be easier. Sighing internally, Arthur tried to make his voice at least a little bit gentle. "Anything I should know about him?"

Merlin wasn't even pretending to not be looking at the door now. "Nope, boring old uncle, sorry, have to go… do the laundry," he said, and with that he was gone. Arthur glanced at the basket of dirty laundry still at the end of his bed, and growled slightly. His friend was never going to make things easy. Heading out after his servant, Arthur found the nearest guard and requested Leon be sent to his chambers at once.

* * *

Merlin didn't make it far before his erratic breathing got the better of him. Finding the nearest set of stairs he leapt up them two at a time and didn't stop until he was outside, on the wall. There he collapsed, put his head between his knees, and tried to slow his stampeding heart.

Uncle Daell was here. Uncle Daell had found him. How, how had he found him? Why? Why couldn't Merlin just catch a break, just this once? Why did it have to be Uncle Daell?

His mother had never liked her brother. They were polar opposites, he dark and she light, and he had left Ealdor as soon as he was able, according to her. She hadn't heard from him for years, and the next time they met, Merlin had already been born, was in fact verging on his sixth birthday.

He remembered it quite clearly for such a long time ago. The way Uncle Daell had sneered at him, the way Hunith had pushed him out the door and told him to go play, even though the sun had long gone down. Merlin had been scared by the unknown man then. His fear was only to get worse.

Uncle Daell had ended up staying with them for a week, saying he just need some time to rest and get to know his nephew. Hunith had made it as difficult as possible, keeping them separate for any length of time, but it could not be avoided forever. Daell had ended up going looking for Merlin while he, unawares, had been using his magic to get a particularly hard to reach apple.

Daell had seen. Daell had not approved.

Merlin had been barely able to walk the next day. Hunith had tried kicking him out as soon as she'd seen the damage, but had received a black eye of her own for her troubles.

Polar opposites.

Daell had pulled Merlin out of bed and forced him onto a chair. Sat him down, given him a stern talking to, like a father would a child for starting a fight. Told him he was a freak, that he was awful, and that he should never use such a thing as wrong as magic. Told him that if he did, he would be punished again, and that Daell was only doing what was best for him. Was only looking out for him.

If it weren't for his mother, Merlin might have ended up believing him. Almost had.

Merlin had tried not to use it for the rest of the time Daell was there, but he kept thinking back to when he had tried to stop last time, and his skin would get itchy and he would remember his mother's face. So he would sneak off, run to the nearby forest, and use just a little bit to turn the leaves into shapes or to coax a butterfly into his hand. Just little things, harmless things, to stop the pain from coming back.

But Daell had caught him, again. And he had been angry.

And now Uncle Daell was here, in Camelot, in Merlin's home, and he didn't know what to do. Merlin's hands squeezed his head in frustration, and he could have sworn he felt the twinge of a very old, very painful injury in his left arm.

* * *

It was a while before he had calmed enough to leave the safety of the castle wall. He would have preferred to stay there longer, but Arthur would be expecting his dinner soon, and if Merlin was any later than usual it would just give him more reason to worry. Oh, he had seen the way Arthur had been looking at him before. But he couldn't exactly explain the problem to him.

_Oh, it's just my uncle, he hates me because of my magic and beats me because of it, you think you could get rid of him? Thanks._

A humourless smile skipped across Merlin's lips as he descended the stairs. If only it could be that easy.

_What am I going to do?_ He still had no idea. A small part of Merlin hoped maybe he could just wait him out; Uncle Daell didn't live here. He could just wait and avoid until the man had moved on. Except… he'd seen Merlin now. His favourite practice dummy. His most despised nephew. What if he decided to stay, to keep an eye on Merlin and make sure he wasn't up to his 'wicked ways'?

And then there was the matter of the sorcerer he was reporting. What if they were innocent, someone Daell was hanging up to dry because of who they were, just like Merlin? He couldn't just ignore it.

Merlin stopped dead. The deserted corridor was slowly darkening around him. What if the sorcerer… was Merlin? Was that who Daell had come to report? Decided to let someone else deal with the problem, after all this time? Merlin brought a hand to his chest, worried he was going to start hyperventilating again. Oh god, what could he do?

So deep in thought was he that he didn't notice the heavy footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late. A meaty hand grabbed him by the neckerchief and dragged the startled young man into a side corridor. Merlin found himself staring into the hungry eyes of his uncle and without any witnesses.

"There you are, boy," Uncle Daell hissed. "Up to no good as usual, hmm?"

Merlin quickly shook his head. "N- no, I haven't - "

Daell shook him roughly. "Don't you lie to me! I can smell it all over you. You _wreak_ of_ magic_." He spat the last word like poison from his mouth. "And right under King Arthur's nose, too. You're a conniving little bastard, aren't ya?"

"Uncle Daell - "

"Don't you dare call me that!" Daell growled. "I am not related to magical filth like you! You're lucky I don't hand you over right now!" Merlin remained silent because, really, he was lucky, and he had no idea why Daell hadn't done so. "I tell you what though, you little toerag. I catch one more whiff of the stuff from you and you'll be begging to be thrown at the king's feet. You got that?"

"You - " Merlin tried, and started again a bit louder, "You can't hurt me here. Arthur won't allow it." None of his friends would. He was sure of it.

This earned him a punch right across the jaw and Merlin fell to the ground with a yell of pain. Daell sneered from above him. "Oh really? You gonna tell on me, are you boy? And what are you going to say? That you're a victim? He'll want to know why, you realise that?" Merlin sagged further to the ground and Daell laughed. "You can't tell anybody, else I'll tell them exactly why. Don't you get it, _Merlin_?" Merlin hated the way he said his name. Like it was something vile. "You have no choice here. You stop your evil magic, or you get punished." Daell rolled his shoulders back. "It's only fair, after all." And with that he was gone, leaving Merlin on the cold stone ground.

**The reference to Merlin trying to go without using magic as a kid is a tiny reference to the OPM collection, but really not too important for this story. Just know Merlin physically can't stop using magic for too long (in my headcanon).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Full on response to this! I'm so glad people are interested. I thought it kind of funny how the majority of reviews had an "aww poor Merlin!" in there. Am I a bad person? Don't answer that.**

**This story will be a little bit longer than I first thought, but not by much. I'm estimating about five chapters, all up.**

**P.S never read angsty fic while listening to Hero of War by Rise Against. Seriously. Don't do it. I'm considering writing a oneshot while listening to it just to see if I can make myself cry.**

Leon didn't know what he had been expecting when Arthur had summoned him to his chambers, but it certainly hadn't been this.

"You want me to… spy on Merlin's uncle?" And while his tone remained respectful as ever, there was admittedly a little bit of incredulity in there too.

Arthur looked grim. "There's something off about him. Don't you think it's strange Merlin never mentioned having an uncle?"

"Have you thought that maybe it just never came up, sire?" Leon suggested.

Arthur thought about the many conversations they had had over the years, in particular the one where Merlin confessed to never knowing his father. "No. He would have said something. Besides, it's not just that." Arthur ran a hand through his golden hair. "You didn't see him, Leon. When the man first showed up. I'm telling you, he… he seemed terrified." Leon didn't answer, now more suitably perturbed. "I just think, if I'm going to be putting to use resources based on his information, I should know if I can trust him."

"Have you…" Leon paused, hoping he wasn't overstepping the line. "Have you asked Merlin about this, sire?"

Arthur looked at him flatly. "Of course I asked him, Leon, but since when does that ever achieve anything? He just scampered off like a frightened hare."

"Very well, sire," Leon said with a nod, "I will find him right away."

Still though, spying on Merlin's uncle was not exactly a comfortable feeling for him. It had taken him most of the afternoon to find the man that matched Arthur's description; by the time he had, the sun was beginning to set and he was checking into an inn for the night. With a few shiny coins Leon got the room number from the keep, just in case, and resigned himself to a night of waiting. He positioned himself just a few houses down from the inn so he had a good line of sight to the entrance while ensuring he wouldn't be easily spotted if someone came out. And with that, a long night began.

* * *

Arthur's closest knights were all on the training grounds save Leon the next day, tag-team sparring while awaiting their king. It was unusual for him to be late, but they had put it down to royal duties of one sort or another and started without him. When he finally did show up he was wearing a large scowl and an unhappy Merlin was trailing along behind him. Gwaine's eyes narrowed when he saw the dark bruise settled onto the left side of Merlin's jaw.

"Something wrong?" he asked, looking suspiciously between the two. He didn't _really_ think Arthur would ever hit Merlin, but the way he was scowling… well. King or not, Gwaine would be making a few things clear if it turned out to be the case.

Arthur caught his glare and the scowl deepened. "No. Everything's perfectly fine."

"Just doesn't seem that way, is all, what with the sudden addition to Merlin's face." Merlin was conveniently turned away from them by this point, busying himself with collecting discarded swords. Percival and Elyan watched the exchange apprehensively, knowing full well how Gwaine could be with Merlin and how easily he could forget certain protocols; for example, how it was frowned upon to break the king's nose.

Arthur glared at his manservant for a moment before looking back at Gwaine. "Yes, well, I'm afraid you'll have to take that up with him. Seeing as he won't tell me a damn thing."

Ah. So that's why Arthur was looking so angry. Gwaine immediately backed off, nodding a silent apology, and Arthur nodded his acceptance. He could understand, after all.

And Gwaine did take it up with Merlin. As soon as training was finished and Merlin was setting out Arthur's armour to be polished, Gwaine sidled up beside him.

Merlin's nose wrinkled. "Geeze, Gwaine, please tell me you're going to have a bath."

Gwaine smirked and sat down next to him at the table. "Soon enough. Right after I found out what happened there," he gestured to Merlin's jaw, not missing the way Merlin flinched.

"You know me," said Merlin, focusing on the armour. "Silly accident. Looks worse than it is." Merlin gave a forced chuckle. "My clumsiness will be the end of me."

"Let's hope not," said Gwaine absently, still studying the bruise. But Merlin was becoming increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze and eventually Gwaine forced himself to look away. "Is there a problem, Merlin?"

There was a small pause, and even Merlin's hand stilled where it had been rubbing the cloth over Arthur's chest plate. For one hopeful moment, Gwaine thought Merlin might open up; he certainly looked ready to spill the beans. But then the moment was gone and Merlin continued to polish. "Nah. Everything's fine, Gwaine."

Gwaine nodded, veritably unsatisfied, but not seeing how he could push the matter. "Well, you know you can let me know if there is, right?" He waited for Merlin's nod before leaving.

Gwaine wasn't the only one to try. Percival and Elyan expressed their concern as well, but none got an answer out of him. Even Gwen tried when she bumped into him later that day, but the same old story was repeated. _"I was clumsy."_ And since Leon had nothing to say about Daell that morning when reporting in, other than he spent the whole night at the inn, Arthur had found himself at a bit of a dead end.

It was the same the next day; just another ordinary night in for Daell, according to Leon. Except Merlin was walking rather stiffly and favouring one side when he delivered breakfast, which quite possibly meant the now-yellowing bruise on his jaw wasn't the only one he had.

Arthur tried to put it out of his mind with his morning routine (breakfast, early training, council meeting, being bored to tears) but he just couldn't ignore it forever. _Someone _was hurting Merlin, his friend, and Merlin was being too pig-headed to let him help. Knowing Merlin's other friends had failed at finding out anything, he decided it was time to turn to his last resort.

"Gaius, I need to…" Arthur trailed off as he walked into the physician's chambers, staring as Merlin very quickly dropped his shirt back over his torso. But it was too late. Arthur had seen the bruising and failed attempt at strapping underneath. "What the hell is that?" Arthur asked, his voice low.

Merlin shook his head. "It's nothing. Tripped."

Arthur just stared. "Tripped?"

Merlin nodded. "Tripped." Then, after a moment's consideration, added, "down some stairs."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Where's Gaius?"

"Not sure," Merlin answered with a shrug, "not here. Maybe you'll find him - "

"No you don't," Arthur growled and even as Merlin flinched, he walked forwards and crouched in front of his manservant. With a gentleness belying his dangerous tone he lifted the tunic back up to get a closer look. His chest and a good portion of his stomach was mottled in bruises. Arthur's hiss of anger joined Merlin's hiss of pain when he prodded a lower rib and felt definite movement. The whole time, Merlin did not say a word, and when Arthur finally stood back up, he was completely avoiding eye contact. "Merlin," Arthur said seriously, not ready to swallow some bull excuse this time. "Tell me what happened. That is an order."

But of course, following orders had never been a strong suit of Merlin's. He only continued to stare at his shoes with interest. Arthur tried to swallow down his impatience. "_Mer_lin - "

"I told you, Arthur. I fell," Merlin cut in, obviously wanting the matter closed. Well, too bad.

"_Fell?_ You get all of that," he gestured angrily to Merlin's torso, "from a fall? How thick do you think I am?"

Merlin immediately perked up. "Well - "

"Oh no," said Arthur, not giving him the way out. "Not this time. Merlin, you will tell me who did this to you!"

"No I won't!" Merlin shouted back, standing defiantly, even as he winced in pain. "I don't have to tell you Arthur! You don't own me, I'm not your slave, I'm your servant! What happens in my own time is none of your business, or have you forgotten that?!"

Arthur stepped back as if he'd been slapped. This wasn't right. This was very, very wrong. They shared everything, proper etiquette be damned; they were friends, and friends shared. When Arthur felt he couldn't live up to the responsibilities put on him, he told Merlin, and Merlin would knock some sense into him. When his father had died, Merlin had been there, the whole time, he had waited silently, patiently for Arthur to get back on his feet. And when Merlin was upset…

When Merlin was upset he never talked about it. He didn't come to Arthur, he avoided Arthur, he remained quiet and sombre and never quite opened up. And now, here he was, doing it again; pushing Arthur away. How had Arthur never realised this? What kind of a friendship did they have, really, if Merlin kept everything so tightly to his chest?

With a shake of his head, Arthur turned and left.

Merlin watched him go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Oh good job,_ he scolded himself, _make Arthur angry at you, that will really help matters._ But no, no this was for the best. Arthur couldn't get too close to this; it would only be a matter of time before he found out who had hurt Merlin, and he had no doubt that Uncle Daell wouldn't hesitate in explaining why. _Besides,_ Merlin thought with a wince of pain shooting from his rib, _it could be worse._

_I can handle this,_ he told himself. _I can deal with it._ He would figure out what Uncle Daell wanted, how he intended to get it, and stop him. Daell might have brute force, but Merlin had magic, and despite what his uncle thought, it wasn't evil. He could use it for good, always had, always would. This would be no different. Merlin took a deep breath. He wasn't a kid anymore. He could take Uncle Daell on, and he could win, he knew he could. It was time this stopped.

* * *

The throne room was nearly full. Rumours of the sorcerer sighting had flown about like leaves on the wind, and it wasn't long before all of Camelot was buzzing about it. Arthur had put it off as long as he could; it was time to hear Daell out.

As the man stepped forward, ready to address the king, Arthur was very aware of Merlin standing just behind him and to the left. They had not spoken since their fight earlier. He was sure some of the knights had noticed, and absolutely certain Guinevere had, with the concerned looks she kept sending him, but none had approached the issue. Just as well. Arthur would really hate to bite someone's head off for simply being concerned.

"Sire," Daell began in an oily tone, "I come to you with grave news. I had been travelling very near to here, through the woods, when I stumbled upon an awful sight." Arthur nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "There I was, minding my own business you see sire, when out of nowhere, a blinding green flash assaulted my eyes. When next I could see, there was a man, a tall man, in a dark cloak, muttering those…" Daell's eyes flickered past Arthur for just a moment before continuing, "those treacherous words."

Muttering immediately broke out amongst the spectators, and Arthur brought up a hand for quiet. "Do you know what the spell was for?" he asked, immediately concerned for the safety of Camelot.

But Daell shook his head. "I apologise, sire, but I did not stick around to find out. I fled for my life, and realised I had to come straight here to report it."

"Very well," said Arthur. "Thank you for reporting this. I will investigate this personally."

"It was my honour, sire," Daell replied with a grovelling bow. When he looked up again, the threatening sneer had returned to his face, and again his eyes wondered away from the king. "Anything I can do to remove the world of such poison."

Arthur really, really didn't like this man. But he couldn't very well just ignore such a report. It had to be investigated, questionable source or no.

* * *

Merlin's mind was whirling as Arthur rounded up his most trusted knights for the search. None of what his uncle had said seemed right; not just the obvious pleasure he had in reporting what had happened, but the story itself… Merlin knew Uncle Daell, knew how he reacted to magic, much as he wished he didn't. The man wouldn't simply run away from such a display; even if the sorcerer was bigger and older than Merlin, Uncle Daell wouldn't simply flee. It wasn't in his nature. This was all very off, and Merlin couldn't do a damn thing about it. Not that he wouldn't try.

"Arthur," he muttered as the two left the hall. "I don't think… I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Arthur stopped and turned on him in the deserted corridor. He was obviously still angry about this morning, and Merlin again mentally kicked himself for his outburst. "And why is that, Merlin?"

"I don't… trust him."

Arthur's expression hardened. "Well, he's _your_ uncle. You tell me right now why I can't trust the man." Merlin remained silent, but clenched his fists in frustration. "No? No answer for me?" Arthur pointedly looked down to Merlin's chest and stomach before bringing his gaze back to his face; specifically, the healing bruise on his jaw. "You can't give me _one_ good reason why Daell mustn't be trusted?"

Merlin looked to the ground with a repressed sigh. No. He couldn't. Because it would be condemning himself as well.

Arthur turned and continued walking, and when he spoke, he sounded hurt. "Then I have no reason to stop this patrol."


	3. Chapter 3

**Remember me? :) Sorry, I went away to visit family and didn't get a chance to tell you all beforehand, hence the late update. Really am sorry about that. I've been getting such nice feedback for this story, and I can only hope that this continues to work for you guys. Thanks so much for the support.**

**My sympathies to TheDeathSinger, who hadn't heard 'Hero of War' before I mentioned it. I did try to warn you that it would hurt. Oh, and I ended up writing that oneshot after all, so that should be uploaded soon, methinks.**

Merlin dropped his bag onto the table with an audible 'plonk' and looked around the cluttered chambers to see if he had forgotten anything.

"Do you have bandages?" Gaius apparently had just as much faith in Merlin as he himself did.

"Yes, I packed bandages. And honey, and extra water, and a bed roll."

Gaius nodded approvingly but Merlin was barely paying attention, mentally running through his checklist one last time. Finally he lifted the pack and settled it on his back, turning to face his mentor. But before he could say the customary goodbyes, Gaius cut in with "are you going to be okay, Merlin?"

Merlin gave him an uncertain smile. "Yeah, Gaius, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Gaius simply raised an eyebrow. "Merlin, I know I haven't been around much the past few days, but that doesn't mean I have gone blind. I can see something is wrong, just as well as I can see that bruise still on your face." Merlin grimaced.

It was true that Gaius had been rather absent the past few days - to no fault of his own. Lady Blackwood had come down with a cold-turned-feverish-delirium and Gaius had had to dedicate all his time to looking after her. So while Gaius knew Merlin's uncle was visiting, that was about all he knew. Merlin had kept meaning to bring it up, but the few times he had seen Gaius the older man had looked about ready to collapse with exhaustion. As it was, Merlin had just had to keep putting it off.

And there was no time now. Arthur and the knights were waiting for him, and he didn't quite trust that Arthur wouldn't just lose patience and leave. He couldn't have that, especially not now when he didn't know what Daell was planning.

So, with hidden regret, Merlin smiled reassuringly and said "it's no big deal Gaius. Nothing that can't wait until later." Gaius looked justifiably disbelieving, but Merlin gave him no time to argue. "Really gotta go, sorry. " He rushed to the door. "We'll talk when I get back, I promise!"

"Just - " Gaius started, but the door was already slammed shut. "Make sure you do come back," he finished quietly.

* * *

Despite his apprehensions about the search, Merlin couldn't help but feel relieved as they rode beyond the outer city walls. At least, out here, there was no Uncle Daell, and that knowledge just somehow made the air seem fresher and easier to breathe.

But he only allowed himself a moment of indulgence before coming back down to earth and the problems with it. He hadn't felt this alert, or the need to watch out for Arthur this strongly in a long time. And the further they rode, the closer to the area Daell had apparently described to Arthur in great detail they got, the more tense Merlin became. It didn't help that he had no idea of what he had to be wary of.

They had been riding through the outskirts of the woods for some time, where it was easier to navigate five horses and their riders, but soon Arthur began leading them further in where the trees grew closer together and roots stuck out precariously out of the ground. Having long left the beaten path, the party had to slow to a more careful pace so as not to injure the beasts they rode. It soon became clear they would not make the destination before nightfall.

"Thought your uncle said it wasn't far," Gwaine grumbled to Merlin as they dismounted their horses, but Merlin only smiled weakly in response.

It was quiet as camp was set up. By this point in a trip the talk had usually downgraded to just Merlin complaining or insulting Arthur, and the king throwing some careless remark back. Tonight, however, it only became more apparent all was not forgiven between the two. The silence became awkward, almost suffocating, and resulted in Elyan actually volunteering to find the firewood. No one argued.

Unsurprisingly, it was Gwaine who finally broke the silence. He looked over to the horses where Merlin was making sure they were tethered properly. He noted the way Merlin was leaning his weight slightly onto one foot and turned back to where Arthur crouched at the pile of wood already gathered, knocking two flints together severely, as if they had done him some personal wrong. "You found out who's been hurting Merlin yet?" he finally murmured quietly. Percival stilled slightly from where he was setting up the bed rolls to listen in.

But there wasn't much to hear. Arthur simply put more ferocity into his attempts. "I'll take that as a no, then," Gwaine said. He hesitated with a glance back at Merlin before continuing. "Arthur, I get you're pissed, but this probably isn't the best time to be holding a grudge. Merlin needs help - "

"Merlin doesn't want help," Arthur said coldly, but anyone could hear the hurt underneath.

"And since when has Merlin ever known what's good for him?" Gwaine countered immediately. "Better yet, since when have you listened to him?"

Arthur shook his head. It was more than that. Merlin _never_ wanted his help, and he had been too thick to realise it until now. And now his friend was hurting and didn't trust him enough to let him help. What the hell was Arthur _supposed_ to do?

"Does this have anything to do with his uncle?" Percival finally spoke up. "He wouldn't… it wouldn't be him that's doing it, would it?"

Arthur's hands dropped and he continued to stare at the pile. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I… had my suspicions, but Leon hasn't reported anything of him. So now I don't know what to think."

"That's where Leon's been, then? Keeping an eye on the guy?" Leon's absence the last couple of days had been noted aloud before but Arthur had shot down all questions.

Not this time. "Yes. And the man does nothing - he barely leaves the inn he's staying in."

Gwaine frowned and leaned forward slightly as he thought, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Who else could it be, though? And why wouldn't Merlin - "

"Having trouble?" the man in question's voice stopped Gwaine in his tracks and he turned to see Merlin gesturing at the non-existent fire. "Honestly, Arthur, I have to do everything for you don't I?" The casual tone to his voice was only slightly forced, and if he avoided looking at Arthur in the eyes, no one was going to point it out. Arthur simply glared in response and brought his hands back up, renewing his efforts.

By the time Elyan returned with extra timber there was a fire crackling heartily and conversation had finally picked up. In fact, the only sign anything had been wrong in the first place was a slightly quieter Merlin than usual, and the fact that he seemed to be avoiding Arthur's gaze. The king, however, occasionally caught himself openly staring at his manservant, studying him for any more hidden injuries. The younger man was still holding himself rather stiffly and while he tried to hide it, he often winced whenever he had to get up.

Arthur wanted nothing more than to talk to Merlin, to find out how it had happened and who had done it. He wanted to be there for his friend. And yet, after the way Merlin had blown up at him, he couldn't bring himself to try again. Because maybe, and it was admittedly a very small maybe, Merlin had meant what he had said. Maybe he really didn't want Arthur intruding on his life.

The fact that it was even a possibility stung Arthur, more than he would ever care to admit.

Finally, as the fire had died down to nought but embers, Arthur announced it was about time they got some rest - they had a sorcerer to hunt tomorrow, after all. Slowly the knights made their way to their bedrolls as Merlin chucked the last of the wood on the fire to keep them warm during the night. Considering the danger they were actively looking for, Arthur decided it would be best to keep a lookout, and volunteered himself as first shift, Percival volunteering to go next. Arthur had himself propped up against a tree, his sword lying by his side, with the whole campsite in view.

For once Gwaine was not the last to settle down for the night. Merlin still sat by the remnants of the fire long after the others began to snore, and Arthur pretended not to notice. Tried to, anyway.

"I'm sorry."

The voice was quiet but steady and Arthur glanced back at his friend in surprise. Merlin was still looking at the now completely dead fire, had barely moved since he'd sat there to begin with.

"I didn't mean what I said," he continued after a moment, "about… you know. I didn't mean it."

Try as he might, Arthur couldn't help but find himself hard-pressed to believe him. "If that's the case, you won't mind telling me what's going on." He tried to make it sound threatening and aloof. He hoped it hadn't come off as worried and hopeful.

Still, Merlin didn't answer. He finally retreated to his bedroll without a word, and the hurt in Arthur grew.

Merlin just didn't trust him.

* * *

"This should be it," Arthur called, reigning his horse in to a halt as the others did so behind him. "It's around here the sorcerer was spotted."

They all quietly dismounted and spread out, no words needed between them; they had done it enough in the past. Merlin automatically stepped in the same direction as Arthur but kept a distance between them so as to remain unnoticed as much as possible. Trees grew in tight clusters around them and the ground was covered by a full layer of leaves - leaves that had been flattened. As if multitudes of people had trampled over the same spot. Arthur was crouched, inspecting the damage, when a whistle from Elyan caught his attention. The knight gestured to a low hanging branch where the end was dangling from a single, thin strip of bark - as if someone had tried to snap it in half and given up at the last possible moment. Obviously someone, or something had been through the area. Arthur nodded and the group carefully started in the direction the branch pointed.

Merlin's palms were sweaty as they tramped through the woods, twitching at the slightest possible movement. Memories mixed with nightmares of Uncle Daell mixed in his head, causing him to fear the man was going to jump out and grab him at any moment - or worse, grab one of his friends. His mouth went dry and the now familiar instinct to just grab Arthur and drag him in the opposite direction grew strong.

He never got the chance to act on that instinct.

A whooshing sound filled the air and Merlin felt himself being shoved roughly to the side. An arrow embedded itself in the ground where Merlin had been standing, but he didn't get a chance to even nod his thanks to Percival before a band of attackers were upon them.

Men came from all sides, yelling a harsh war cry, and the knights of Camelot drew their swords. Arthur led the defence, stepping out into the fray without hesitation. The battle had come out of nowhere and suddenly it was everywhere.

Merlin stumbled out of the way of one man baring his yellow teeth and swinging a crude axe with enthusiasm, and with a quick flash of his eyes had the man collapsing onto the ground with a snore. Merlin quickly stepped further out of the centre of battle, trying his best to remain inconspicuous, but there were so many of them. They were all around him, and he barely had enough chance to defend himself, let alone look out for the others. Every time he tried to make his way to where Arthur fought, someone else was in his way.

The next thing he knew was a searing agony that filled his ears with white noise and had him roaring in pain. A surge of magic blasted out of him and three men surrounding him were all thrown back with cries of surprise. But the dagger that had just been lodged firmly in Merlin's lower back remained stubbornly in place. There was an intense, burning heat focusing from a bit to the right of his spine, followed by random flashes of cold. Merlin dropped to his knees with a loud thud that he didn't hear, and soon found himself hitting the dirt. He was gasping for breath, his vision swimming as the pain overwhelmed him, but all he could think was _who's protecting Arthur?_

With what seemed to be nothing less than gargantuan effort, Merlin forced himself to look up from where he lay. He could only see blurs of silver clashing with blurs of dirty browns and greys. He certainly couldn't focus enough to think of any sort of aimed attack.

But still he summoned the dregs of his magic, dragging it from its focus on the wound in his back and instead bringing it forth and pushing it out with a hoarse whisper.

_"Ic þe bebiede... þæt þu abifest nu."_

A shock-wave rippled through his body and with one last shout of awful pain, Merlin's world went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Man, am I efficient or what? You have to admit, this was a pretty fast update for me. I guess I've been feeling more inspired lately.**

**That being said, I'm a bit unsure about this chapter, so constructive criticism, as always, is welcomed. I hope you do still enjoy.**

Arthur flung his arms out in a desperate bid to keep balance as the earth suddenly shook under their feet. The crude fighter he had been facing had no such luck and shouted in surprise as he was knocked backwards. The sudden earthquake could barely be more than a tremor, but all around him their adversaries were falling gracelessly, while the Camelot knights all managed to remain relatively on balance. It was obviously a sign of lack of training and discipline on the enemy's part - mercenaries, by the look of it.

Taking down one you fight when he is already on the ground has never been the most honourable way of fighting, but to Arthur, neither is taking your enemy by surprise and greatly outnumbering him. So he made quick work of the man that had fallen before him and moved to the next to do the same. They were just beginning to struggle to their feet but his knights had had the same idea as him, and there weren't a whole lot of mercenaries left. Arthur's eyes landed on Gwaine, his sword at a stocky man's throat.

"Gwaine! Stop!" Gwaine looked at him in surprise. "We need one alive!"

Gwaine rolled his eyes but as instructed dropped the sword, instead quickly bringing a fist back and punching the relieved looking man in the face. He fell and Percival quickly stepped forward to pull his arms behind his back until they could get rope.

Rope was Merlin's responsibility to pack… where was that useless servant anyway?

It seemed the others had the same idea as they began to look around them, but it was Elyan who spotted him first. His eyes widened and he ran forwards, calling Arthur as he did so. Arthur turned and for a moment, his heart stopped.

There was a body lying facedown on the ground with an all too familiar tattered brown jacket and nest of black hair. And it had a crude dagger sticking out of its lower back.

"Merlin!"

Arthur raced towards his friend and crashed to his knees beside him. Oh, god, there was so much_ blood_. Tentatively, the king brought two fingers to Merlin's throat, just under his chin, and waited. While Percival hung back slightly to keep a hold of their prisoner, Gwaine joined them, and in a gruff voice said "well?"

Arthur was silent a second longer before nodding. "He's alive. Just." Arthur looked down at the man lying unmoving before him. The blood that covered him and the ground around him. _How _is_ he alive?_

His manservant was a mess. Arthur reached for the younger man's bag, fallen beside him, and pulled out the clumps of bandages that had been unceremoniously shoved in, getting ready to treat Merlin as best he could before they could get proper help.

Gwaine watched, his hands hovering uselessly in front of him, at a loss of what to do. "We have to get him back to Gaius," he muttered as Arthur worked.

Arthur was inclined to agree, but Elyan spoke up. "What of the sorcerer?"

Gwaine turned on him, his tone threatening when he shot back "What of him?"

Elyan looked uncomfortable but pressed on anyway. "Obviously Merlin needs help, but we can't just leave a sorcerer roaming free - "

They were interrupted by a barking laugh and Arthur glared at the mercenary Percival still had a hold of. "You still think there's a sorcerer? I thought you nobles were supposed to be smart."

Arthur ignored them all and braced himself for what he had to do next. The dagger had to come out. He wrapped both hands around the handle and with a deep breath and whispered apology, pulled. Merlin arched in pain, a stunted cry escaping his lips, his eyes scrunched up tight, but collapsed back into unconsciousness as soon as the dagger was free. Arthur quickly began wrapping the bandages around Merlin's torso, covering the wound with as many layers as he could, but it wasn't fast enough to stop more blood escaping. It was sickening. Arthur just knew this moment was going to haunt his nightmares for some time.

Only when the bandages were firmly in place and Gwaine had taken his place at Merlin's side did Arthur turn his attention to their captive. "Now," he said, his voice cold, "you had something to say?"

The mercenary grinned. Uneven stubble littered his face and his lips were cracked and dry. "I'm just surprised his plan actually worked." He took a moment to look around at his fallen comrades, not appearing overly bothered by the bloodshed. "Well. Perhaps 'worked' is a strong word."

Arthur took another step forward. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The man rolled his eyes but remained silent, and Percival shook him roughly. "The king asked you a question."

The man looked up at Arthur calculatingly. He was a full head shorter. "Well, a bit coincidental that so many of us just happened to get the drop on you, isn't it? Lucky you came through this exact route so that we stumbled across you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "This was a trap?"

The man threw his head back and laughed again, receiving a cuff around the ear from Percival for his trouble. "Hey, the king's got it!"

"But then…" Arthur thought back to who had sent them on this wild goose chase in the first place. He thought of the suspicions he had had about the man from the start, the way Merlin tried to warn him not to go. Merlin. Merlin who now lay, quite possibly dying. Thanks to his _own damned uncle_.

Rage boiled through Arthur's blood and bubbled in his stomach. At Daell, at Merlin, at himself, at the man in front of him who dared to laugh and grin and mock like nothing was wrong. "Release him, Percival."

"Sire - "

"Release him!"

Percival let go and stepped back. The nameless mercenary eyed Arthur warily and began to back away, but he stood no chance. Arthur had cut him down before the man could yell in protest. He only wished it had been Daell at the end of his blade.

* * *

The journey back to Camelot was fast and tense. They ran out of fresh bandages by the first night. The bleeding stopped soon after, but Arthur couldn't imagine Merlin had a whole lot of blood left. There was still a small part of him that continued to wonder how, in fact, his servant was still alive, but he studiously ignored it. It didn't feel safe to tempt fate with such questions.

The second day Merlin's breathing was becoming more and more erratic, and by the time they could see the city walls he had broken out into an unnatural sweat. He hadn't once opened his eyes but they darted about under his lids frantically and the silence that had fallen over the patrol was constantly broken by whimpering and gasping as he twitched from Arthur's horse.

It was one of the worst rides of Arthur's life.

* * *

Gaius stood up from his stool, wiping his hands with a cloth but sure he could still see red on them. With one last glance to his ward, now breathing slightly more steadily as he slept, Gaius turned to the cluster of knights. Elyan was leaning against the wall and Gwaine sat at the table in front of him, his leg bouncing up and down restlessly. Percival sat on the other side, glancing between his clasped hands and Merlin. Arthur stood in front slightly, leaning against the table, his arms folded and his face dark.

"Well?" the king asked finally.

Gaius took a deep breath, his hands held together in front of him. "Merlin's fever is high. He lost a great deal of blood. I can only be grateful you treated it with what you had…" Gaius turned slightly to glance fondly down at his patient and continued, "and that Merlin actually remembered to pack his medical supplies."

Arthur nodded and Gwaine asked "so will he be okay?"

"I'm afraid that is going to depend on Merlin, now."

Arthur allowed a slight smile. "Merlin's an idiot, but he's a stubborn idiot. He'll be alright." The smile dropped. "As for Daell…"

"Is it true that he cannot be found, sire?" Gaius asked.

"For now. Leon says he disappeared during a commotion in the markets about the time we arrived back," he replied. "He must have heard that his plan had failed." Arthur clenched his fists. "We will find him, Gaius. He will answer for this."

"Do we know why he set the trap?" Elyan spoke up curiously. "I can't figure it out. His own nephew works for the crown, why would he be against it?"

Arthur stared at the prone, too-pale figure lying on the cot. He thought back over the past few days, over Merlin's fear of his uncle and his refusal to talk about it. Guilt and frustration washed over him, hand-in-hand. "If Merlin wakes up, he might be able to tell us."

"When."

Arthur glanced in surprise at Gwaine, who was staring at the ground angrily. "What?"

"You said 'if' Merlin wakes up. I think you meant 'when'."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, of course." There was a beat of tense silence before he announced "we need to help with the search. The sooner we find Daell, the better." Elyan nodded and Percival stood, Gwaine doing so a moment later. Arthur nodded to the physician as the others began to leave and said "thank you, Gaius."

Gaius inclined his head. "Just make sure it was not for nothing, sire. Please."

Being left alone with his ward once more, Gaius returned to his seat at Merlin's side. He reached out for a damp cloth that lay to the side and brought it back to Merlin's forehead, dabbing gently. Merlin was looking more at peace than he had when the knights had crashed through his door with the young man in their arms, but he was still far from comfortable or even safe. As Gaius watched the boy he had come to think of as his own, he couldn't help but wonder how someone of his own blood could be so cruel. Merlin was a kind, noble and gentle soul. How was it that his own flesh and blood uncle could be so cruel?

Gaius had seen the bruises that were slowly healing under Merlin's tunic when treating the wound. There was no doubt who had left them there now. And Gaius just didn't understand how someone, related by blood to this boy in front of him, could stoop to such lengths.

Later that night, Gaius allowed himself to give in to exhaustion and, unwilling to move Merlin as of yet, headed up the stairs to get some sleep in his ward's room. It was a bright, clear night and the moon had found its way through the physician's chamber window. It lit up the room in pale light, showing in detail the way Merlin still twitched and flinched in his sleep. His fever had broken but nightmares still plagued him and as the night wore on they only got more intense. Perhaps it was because some part of him sensed the danger still looming over him.

The door creaked open and a hulking figure stepped inside, bringing it shut behind them. They slowly walked further into the room and eventually found themselves standing over the distressed warlock, their own face now awash in the moonlight.

Daell stood over his nephew for a moment in pure silence, and felt the anger, the rage and revulsion build up within him.

**Pretty sure the next chapter will be the last. Thanks for reading :)**


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